


Grace and Beauty

by aurora_australis



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Horticulture, Melbourne, Phryne's Journey 2019 Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 16:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17450486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: Fancy brings a thought to me of a flower so bright and fairGrace and beauty, both combine, to make that thought more rare...A brief horticultural drabble for the January prompt, “The Royal Botanical Gardens,” part of the 2019 Monthly Challenge,"Phryne's Journey".





	Grace and Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by January’s prompt, “The Royal Botanical Gardens” and the GBS song, [_Graceful & Charming_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWbjw60KPws).
> 
> Otherwise known as “The Accidental Fic.” For… reasons.

Jack had always loved flowers.

“Grace and beauty,” his father used to say. “Flowers in bloom are grace and beauty.” And seven-year-old Jack Robinson, sitting on his father’s knee, would nod solemnly and agree. 

When he was courting Rosie, he would charm her with fresh cut flowers from his mother’s garden. “Grace and beauty for my graceful beauty,” he would say, and nineteen-year-old Rosie Sanderson would nod happily and then leap into his arms for a kiss, careful not to crush the flowers.

When he was in France, waist deep in mud and surrounded by death, there were no flowers. No grace. No beauty. And at night, twenty-three-year-old Jack Robinson would weep silently for the lack of them.

When he returned to Melbourne, Jack planted a garden. A small patch of earth in his front yard. He filled it with lilies and roses and daisies. There was no futility in planting flowers. Everything else felt pointless and hollow, every other action in his life inconsequential. But in the spring… in the spring he could point to his garden, and say, “I did that. I nurtured life. I made a difference.” Grace and beauty returned to the world, forged from nothingness by his very own hand. 

When she left Melbourne, the first place he went was the Royal Botanical Gardens, right next to Ornamental Lake. It was early still, and as he sat there surrounded by grace and beauty, he determined that he would not weep for the lack of her. Shaking his head at his own melancholy, a small streak of blue caught his eye and he wandered over. It didn’t belong here, this streak of blue. But that’s the thing about flowers. Lilies, roses, daisies - they all look so delicate, but they are surprisingly hearty. Surprisingly strong. He appreciated that. Appreciated that even in adversity, they could bloom. Could change the landscape. Could put down roots in the most unexpected of places.

While she was away from Melbourne, he visited the Gardens often, each time looking for his streak of blue. When it was necessary, he would clear away overgrowth that threatened it, make sure it had good access to water and not too much sunlight. But mostly he just let it be. Let it put down roots. Appreciated it.

When she returned to Melbourne, the first thing he did was bring her to the Gardens. To his streak of blue. She recognized it right away, of course (of course, she did).

She squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers back.

“I never could,” she said.

“I never will,” he replied.

And they sealed the promise with a kiss.

Over the years the streak of blue flourished. And over the years they visited it often, mostly together, sometimes alone. 

It had roots now, and would not wane.

And once, when Jack was very old, a young boy walked past their bench and looked at the streak of blue in wide-eyed wonder. Of course, it wasn’t just a streak anymore, but a whole patch.

“What are those?” he asked.

“Myosotis scorpioides,” Jack replied. “It means mouse ear,” he added with a wink, and the little boy giggled. “But you probably know them by their more common name: Forget-Me-Nots.”

“Isn’t that charming?” a voice asked from behind Jack, and he turned to see Phryne making her way slowly, gracefully down the hill to join him on their bench.

The little boy nodded solemnly in agreement, then wandered off to discover more marvels elsewhere. 

“Of course, mouse ear is just the translation,” she added with an enigmatic smile. “That’s not what it means.”

”No,” he agreed. 

A request. A promise. Remembrance of the past. Faith for the future.

Jack looked at the woman sitting next to him and the field of blue before him and smiled. Grace and beauty. Strength. Hope.

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed his back.

Jack had always loved flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I genuinely had _no plans_ to write anything for the January challenge. It was a lovely prompt, but I was working on other things, and when mid-January rolled around and I had still not been inspired, I figured I would just leave this month to the professionals and hope for better muse support later in the year. But then _Graceful & Charming (Sweet Forget Me Not)_ came up on shuffle for the first time in forever and completely unbidden the image of Jack Robinson in a field of Forget-Me-Nots popped into my brain and _would not leave_ until I put it down on paper.
> 
> The end result is a little bit of an experiment for me stylistically, and a lot sentimental, but *looks out the window at the world right now*… maybe that’s ok.
> 
> So there you go, apparently this is what happens when you throw caution to the wind and listen to Canadian folk rock all willy-nilly. Let this be a lesson, kids - fic responsibly!


End file.
